


I Feel Kinda Free

by KidRoy



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidRoy/pseuds/KidRoy
Summary: Kendall Roy will be on a morning flight to Shanghai to oversee WayStar’s Asian division in a day and a half. He will not return to New York for at least six months. This will be his final managerial role before his promotion to chief operating officer of WayStar, then chief executive. It's a night he thought he would be alone for.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonrocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrocks/gifts).



Kendall has thirty six hours. 

He hates goodbyes and countdowns and all things that have an end, a deadline. But he can’ help but count the hours he has left. 

When he’s at Hour Seventy Two, he has to go to the office to close some last minute meetings. At Hour Forty Eight, he has his kids with him at their gym: one last time playing with them for most likely five months. Tears from Sophie, and a quiet but emotional hug from Iverson. The lump begins to form in his stomach around that time.

Hour Forty is the party. Everyone he’s seemingly ever sat next to in a meeting or a class that cared to return a call, any friend his father deemed necessary, all in a loft space above the South Street Seaport. 

His father makes a toast. His two brothers and his sister, look on. This should make him feel proud. The lump begins to ache. He wishes to leave his body. He wishes for another hour, another day. For time to stop all together. And for the worst wish, the wish that always creeps into the part of his mind he pictures as a darkened alleyway. It is a feeling he is all too familiar with at events such as this. 

Kendall Roy will be on a morning flight to Shanghai to oversee WayStar’s Asian division in a day and a half. He will not return to New York for at least six months. This will be his final managerial role before his promotion to chief operating officer of WayStar, then chief executive. 

After speeches, the party begins to dwindle out of the second floor loft. Ken chooses a seat at an empty bar overlooking the bridges. He nurses a club soda, wishing for a hit of vodka. The overt bitterness makes him ache for the burn. Nothing is numbed when it's just club soda. 

Guests walk up to him and give him pats on the back, wishes of encouragement. Some feel real, like they genuinely will miss him. The touches are usually a bit longer. Hugs are asked for. A memory might be shared. Someone might look him in the eyes. Kendall believes them. He tells himself that it’s really him they will miss. Others are a quick pat on the shoulder, a standard reply, more to do with his position than Kendall himself. Kendall isn’t sure of those people. He marks in his mind who is in what category. 

Two lights blink as they pass under the Brooklyn Bridge; a boat of some sort. He wishes he could be on it, distracted by the spritz of the East River hitting his face. Kendall puts his faith in people like a reflex he cannot stop. He is programmed to love back, but the experience of years of disappointment leads him to a method of sorting, of forcing himself to feel and then decide if the sentiment, the love, is real or fake. 

The lump feels deeper as a man—whose name he’s forgotten but works somewhere in satellite tech—offers him a quick pat on the back and a murmur of luck as he walks towards the exit. The man was not there for anything but face value. Kendall takes note. The lump grows. 

“So, they left the Oyster shooters out, but took away the ice? Now it’s just..room temperature raw shellfish in vodka. Going to poison your friends as a goodbye, huh?”

A red liquid with a chunk of oyster body floating on top is pushed into Kendall’s face. Stewy uses Ken’s shoulder to hurl himself onto the bar, legs hanging off and kicking the side of it like a kid on a swing. Kendall feels the tickle of a smirk fall upon his face. It pushes the lump out of his mind. 

“Dare me to take it..like I bet my stomach can handle it,” Stewy holds the glass up like a scientist observing a specimen. The oyster body gets lost in the red ooze. 

Kendall can’t help but finally laugh. “Want to puke tonight?...I dare you”.

Stewy grins and dramatically pushes the oyster and accompanying vodka mix down his throat, accompanied by a dramatic gulp. Kendall flinches as Stewy slams the shot glass down.

“Worth it.” Stewy kicks his leg off the edge of the bar. Kendall’s eye catches a glint in Stewy’s eye. He looks down. He senses a blush forming on his cheeks. 

Kendall feels a small touch on the tip of his chin. A brief tap, but it's enough to send a tingle down his back. Stewy leans in. Kendall knows it means Stewy wants his attention. Stewy knows his mind, how Kendall retreats into himself. And Kendall knows that Stewy will break that down, to bring him back into the moment. 

Stewy grins again and leans back. He looks past Ken, scanning the crowd, “So..Rava...is..?”

“Left...hours ago.. the kids..Ya know, she likes to be there for the mornings..especially, since it might be..uh, rough tomorrow.” Kendall feels his uneasiness grow as the words leave his mouth. 

He thinks of the kids without their father (a situation he knows all too well), combined with the ever awkward exchange of his family with Stewy. Stewy is technically his daughter’s godfather, but other than parties and some dinner invitations, Stewy has hardly taken time to know Sophie, or Iverson. It’s a split situation that Kendall usually cares to not think about. Addressing the guilt would be addressing heavier topics, murkier topics he will never poke at too much. Once in a while, he will flip the idea in his mind, but the knot will bring about a pounding in his head. It’s better left untouched for now. 

“Come over.”

The request brings Kendall back. He sits up on the bar stool. Stewy is still sitting cross-legged, intently inspecting a fingernail. Kendall drops his head with a small smile. 

“Uh..I..was just going to go to the SoHo apartment. It’s easier to get to the office in the morning with the Midtown traffic…” 

Kendall feels his cheeks become warm. Stewy is still looking at his fingernails. He wonders how one man can admire his manicure so much.

“Bullshit, come on. I got the TriBeCa place now. Five minutes to WayStar, flat. Come over.” 

"Kendall can't blame his lightheadedness on the alcohol. He knows it's from the invitation

“Man, I just..have things to do..before Shanghai.” Kendall looks down at his glass to avoid Stewy’s inquisitive stare. He spins the solid remnants of the drink’s ice cube with a cocktail straw. He hears Stewy suck his teeth and sigh.

“Uber is here in three minutes, come on.” 

Kendall bites his bottom lip to hold back a reflexive smile. He looks up at Stewy, phone out, waving behind him. 

“Jess, he’s with me! Send the car back and his coat! Thanks!” Stewy offers Kendall a glance.

A closed smirk envelopes Stewy’s face. Kendall feels a stir in his stomach: a good one this time. He hasn’t felt one those in the past month.


	2. Chapter 2

“Take off your shoes man..”

The elevator closes behind them. Stewy throws his key onto a side table. Kendall leans down while looking out at the apartment. It isn’t the modernist sleek style that he is used to seeing from most financial guy bachelor pads. Stewy ranted about those places to him. ‘I don’t want to go home to an operating room!’, he’d usually say as Kendall just sat and listened. Kendall never really thinks of furniture or how it’s placed like Stew does. Kendall just knows what feels right in a home. He knows Stewy has always had the knack for that. He knows what makes something comfortable. 

The space is open, with floor to ceiling windows. Planters with big leaf ferns adorn the room, dominated by earthy tones. Couches with throw pillows. Hardwood floors but floral carpet smartly placed throughout. It feels lived in, but well kept. Maybe he has picked up something from Stewy’s anti-modernist tirades. Or maybe he just knows what feels like Stewy.

Kendall lets a smile break as he stands up, “So, this is a...converted penthouse?”

“Got the walls of three unit knocked down, the living room and foyer and kitchen is one open room. Bedrooms are their own quarters, down there”, Stewy emphasizes with a shoulder squeeze and a turn to Kendall’s left, showing him the hallway. His grip makes Kendall’s stomach feel light again. 

“And beyond the kitchen, to the right, we got an exercise room, and full hot tub installed. Bachelor pad of our fifteen year old wet dreams, but uhh..classy ya know, like we got the taste of today, but still can throw a rager”. He flashes a smile, a mischievous tint that Kendall recognizes all too well. 

The word rager makes Kendall feel the most at home, a thought that brings a small grin to his face. The ragers of their teenage days led to the first time they tried anything Kendall ever got addicted to; every beginning of an adolescent mistake. It all started at those parties, with Stewy by his side making the same exact mistake; too many lines of coke for a teenage boy to handle, too many shots on any empty stomach, pulling a girl into an empty bedroom without a condom at the ready. And when the clean up came, the head in the toilet, the sleepless night of paranoia, the sheepish admission that he didn’t actually lose his virginity, it was always Stewy right there. 

The only constant as other faces came and went, other guys who would push him to do another line ended up moving on to the next rager, the next person who would give them their career push. Stewy never left, he always stayed even when the teens became twenties and then thirties and now approaching forty. When he still had to clean the vomit off the front of his chin and bring him to bed. 

Stewy makes his way towards the kitchen/bar area, hand falling off of Kendall’s shoulder and down his arm, giving it a little tug. It feels like a boy showing his best friend a new toy, which is not far off from one rich bro showing off a penthouse to another. Except the $1K dirt bike has been replaced by an apartment. Something about the boys with their toys connection makes Kendall relax; this is all really the same as it was back then. All he wants at this moment is to be a boy again and play with Stewy’s latest toy. He always had a better taste in toys than Kendall.

…”Come on man, not like you’ve ever asked permission to do whatever the fuck in my place...or my parents before. Sit, relax”, Stewy lets go, and motions Ken in.

Kendall settles in on the couch and turns on the encore of the Knicks game. He tries to focus, but notices the blaring green time on the cable box above the television. 

Hour Thirty Four

Kendall thinks of tomorrow. The closeout meeting with his New York team.. The transfer of Jess’ payroll. The final meeting with his father. Maybe he could fit in a stop at Sophie and Iverson’s school. Rava was doubting he could make distance work with the kids and he wanted to prove that he could. His father’s meeting could run past 3pm though, and he would have to meet them at the school and...

Two hands firmly grip Ken’s shoulder. He jumps, as he is brought into a small massage.

“That tension knot”, Stewy’s voice travels into his ear. Kendall can tell he’s leaning close. His voice is still playful, but with a softer tone, “like...your heart’s gonna explode when the altitude drops on the plane if you don’t calm down..” Kendall feels his breath on his neck. He lets the weight of his shoulders fall. 

“That’s it, that’s all ya need to do right now”, Stewy whispers. Every word feels like a touch on his neck. Kendall throws his head back, closing his eyes, expecting a kiss to be delivered. 

“Not yet”.

Kendall feels Stewy walk away as he opens his eyes. He hears the clink of glasses behind him. He knows Stewy is going to pour him a drink to lighten him up. The thought of alcohol brings about panic. He stares at the triangular shaped skylight above him, and tries to squint out if he can spot a star in the haze of the city lights. If he could find one, maybe he could wish for Stewy to not place it in front of him. For this to be just a night of intimacy, and nothing to accompany it. He knows he can handle a shot. To get him out of sorts, he needs more than just one. But Kendall wants to be honest about his sobriety. Adding a call to his sponsor would just be another thing for tomorrow. It would make this night end quicker. Maybe on his way to the airport, he can get it in…  
Kendall’s sees a light flicker above him. He hopes it's a star and not his father’s helicopter, as he wishes for this night to last as long as his mind will let it. A last minute shift, but he knows that's what he really wants. If there is a night to admit that, it is this one. 

There are now two shots of vodka sitting on the coffee table. 

“I-...you know I...don’t do...”, he clears his throat as the words stop making sense. He breathes through his nose, trying to focus himself back into the moment and not the desire to get away.

“Just call the guy..ya know the...one you call when you fuck up? He’s like a babysitter but just when you want to drink.”

“My sponsor...Stewy...my substance abuse sponsor. ”, Kendall’s biting tone makes him embarrassed, but he can’t catch his words. The doubt rushes back. He stares at the shot but isn’t sure if it’s worth it…

“Just thought it would loosen shit up man, like...ya know, it’s a bit of a religious scheme, this whole twelve steps thing, like you aren’t really even anonymous? What, they haven’t seen the Wall Street Journal?”. Stewy settles himself next to Kendall and gives his arm a playful punch.. 

Kendall glances back at the game as he lies back. He's an addict too. He knows that the more in denial Stewy gets, the more playful he gets. The rationalization is how he copes, how he can function with it. It’s a skill that Kendall saw Stewy perfect for years. Almost like a master swordsman of a bullshitter. Kendall couldn’t do that with words. His passion or shame overtook most situations. He knew it was messy. It’s why sobriety works for Kendall and doesn’t make sense for Stewy. He knows they’re different. It’s also why Stewy went into private equity, why he made most decisions. He can rationalize anything to himself. Kendall cannot. He is stuck with the truth of every situation, the actual emotionality of what happens. Kendall is all too aware of what has happened because of him and what can continue to. It is why Stewy is always good for him. He can move him away from certain thoughts and towards others. 

But right now, it’s almost Hour 33 and he doesn’t know when the next time he will do this. When he can feel this good with Stewy again. Kendall notices hilm lean forward and Stewy raises his eyebrows, picking up a shot glass. He dips a finger in the liquor and sucks the tip of it.

Kendall gives in. He grabs the other glass and takes the shot. The feeling of the liquor burning his throat gives him the mix of comfort and pain. It soothes Ken like nothing else can. The urge for another...

He focuses on Stewy’s hand. The well manicured nails and small designer ring. The small details of Stewy. He follows his hand up to his collared shirt, silver cufflinks, a timepiece that Kendall couldn’t name if he tried. He then realizes Stewy already took off his jacket. Kendall realizes his jacket is still on and shrugs it off, dumping it on the floor. Mostly out of shame that he has been sitting in his best friend’s apartment for all of ten minutes while wearing a jacket. It’s not like he’s looking for an escape anytime soon.

“What are you going to dump your shit everywhere?”Stewy gets up to hang up the jacket. A brush on his leg makes Kendall flinch as a stir travels from his knee. He watches the game and registers a layup by Porzingas. 

The alcohol was not enough to numb anything and the anxiety from taking a shot cuts into unease. This could be his last time he sees Stewy in quite a while. Kendall begins to count the months. Back in New York for the holidays means family events, meetings regarding the Asian expansion at WayStar. He hears Stewy mumble behind him. He might be able to see Stewy...maybe a late night drink in December before the holiday crunch. The lingering sense of his touch on his knee, the sound of him hanging up the coat. The touch begins to swol into sadness. The Knicks are down by 20.

This might be the last night in the next year, at least. The realization brings Kendall’s mind to a halt. He looks at the wall of windows, the shadows of plants and furniture. This should be shared with him. He should be sitting here with Stewy watching the Knicks next week. He should be on this couch, a hand on his knee. The hand should lead him into a kiss. Kendall should be forgetting life in the feeling of Stewy’s touch, of Stewy’s mouth. The bristle of a beard on his face should be the only thing that would irritate him. Kendall’s excitement should be answered, from the man who addressed it when they were just teens learning what attraction even was in an empty attic in Southampton; the man who always connected the moles on his back with a light touch; the man whose arms are the only place he ever felt protected.

The tv flicks off. It brings Kendall back to reality. Stewy is standing on his side, hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. It travels through his body; the stir is finally reaching his groin, causing him to sharply inhale.

“122-110, Knicks lost”, Stewy says as he lets his finger move to Kendall’s neck and stroke, like a dog getting a pet like the good boy he is. Stewy is looking at the tv, with a slight smirk. The light stroke makes Kendall look up, mesmerized by the line of Stewy’s beard. The shape he has loved since it was perfected in his twenties. 

“Dude, I was watching…”, What meant to be a snark, comes out more breathy than intended. The light rubbing of his neck has led Kendall into a daze. He knows that Stewy is doing this with a plan. 

Stewy’s touch travels to Kendall’s jaw. His mouth hangs open as Stewy still avoids looking at him. 

“You can get the ESPN app on your phone you know...thought you were the tech guy, shouldn’t you know that”, Stewy breaks into a smile, as his voice gets the teasing tone that makes Kendall spiral further. It’s the one that brings him back to college dorms on lazy Sundays, to the boat house with their voices hushed with staff only an ear shot away. The accompanying stroke, focused on the spot right under Kendall’s lip, forces his eyes shut. It’s a spot Stewy has always teased on him. The touch always brings an involuntarily smile across his lips. Stewy first discovered he could just touch it and get him to do anything years ago. It was always his way to bring enl to him at the beginning of a tease. It’s not like Kendall doesn’t love every second of it. 

“I...prefer to watch the games..I l-like.,.it-”, Kendall lets the sentence hang in the air. He keeps his mouth open as Stewy’s finger sneaks onto his bottom lip. He slowly moves his tongue to touch the tip of Stewy’s finger.

“What are you twelve, bro?”, Stewy snaps his finger away before Kendall’s tongue can make contact, forcing his eyes open. A quick back squeeze makes him come to. Kendall blinks as he makes out the figure of Stew walking away from him; around the couch, and down the far hallway.

“I need you to see the hot tub man”, the tone matches that of a used car salesman trying to close a sale on an unsuspecting schmuck. But Kendall doesn’t need to be sold. 

“It’s newly installed and I gotta try out, let's go.’ Stewy looks over his shoulder and finally makes eye contact with Kendall. The glance is one that takes him by a leash and leads him to follow. 

Kendall gets up and stumbles down towards Stewy, already disappearing into the darkness of the room at the end of hall. Out of all the addictions that began all those years ago, at the ragers in all the past apartments, the only one he doesn’t regret is Stewy Hosseini.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!! I think this will round out at three chapters and I should get the final one up soon! Feel free to leave a comment here or at tumblr: kendallsparkcoke!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very belated birthday fic for moonrocks/Successionsideblog on tumblr <3\. It's been kicking around in my mind forever! I am expecting it to be 2-3 chapters. Leave a comment here or on my tumblr kendallsparkcoke.


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